


A Proper Prince

by daphnerunning



Series: What is Wrought Between Us [6]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousin Incest, M/M, Secret Marriage, attempted dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27776047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: Maitimo should know by now that Findekáno will give him anything he asks for, even if he doesn't understand it himself.Some situations (a brother's wedding) seem to tip the scales towards destiny.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: What is Wrought Between Us [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019358
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	A Proper Prince

At every wedding, Maitimo grew a little more desperate to distract him.

Perhaps Findekáno was imagining it. Perhaps Maitimo was trying to distract himself. But it felt as if Maitimo turned wild on the nights they attended feasts, which had grown more numerous as more of their kin in the third generation had come of age.

It was Morifinwë, standing hand in hand with Calariel of Tol Eressëa, claiming the eye of the One and the Valar this night. Maitimo had been outwardly cheerful and joyous at the feast, calling for toasts for his younger brother, teasing him to look happier now at least, until the guests had begun to fade away in the early hours.

Then he’d taken Findekáno’s hand, and spoken not another word as they made their way to a small cottage on the edge of Formenos, and Maitimo had pulled his cloak up over his head, speaking whispered words with a woman at the door. Moments later, he’d tugged Findekáno inside, then up a flight of stairs to a private room, where he’d shoved him down onto a sheet-covered mattress. “No one will care if we’re loud here,” he’d said, and stripped off his robes, something hungry and dark in his eyes.

Now he was crouching over Findekáno, sliding down his body, mouthing at pale skin in a way that sparked heat wherever he touched. Findekáno gasped when Maitimo took him into his mouth, laving the head with his tongue, moaning softly with every lick and suck.

The sounds were the worst. It was one thing when they were fumbling discreetly in Findekáno’s bedroom in Tirion, in the woods near Formenos, or on one of their long hikes into the hills, far from friends and watchers. To have him in a proper bed but without needing silence felt strange, as if a limiter had been cast off.

Or perhaps it was just the way Maitimo was mouthing needily at his length, letting out soft moans, lapping at the head as if there were nothing more desirable. He sucked on the tip, and Findekáno let out a breathy curse, gripping at the pillows beneath his head. “Maitrus, you’re going to suck out my _fëa_ ,” he groaned, arching off the bed.

“Oh?” his cousin teased, hovering above his cock, letting it rest against his chin. It left a sticky wet patch on the skin there, a sight that made Findekáno whimper with lust. “Is this where you keep it, _arimelda_? Let me see if I can taste even that.”

Findekáno threw his head back, his hands tangling in Maitimo’s hair, as Maitimo laughed low in his throat and set about destroying him.

Findekáno heard himself babbling, begging, as he rutted up into Maitimo’s sinful mouth, not wanting to close his eyes, lest he miss even a second of Maitimo sucking his cock.

Just when he thought he would fly apart at the joints, Maitimo pulled off, with a last long lick to the head. Cool air blew across his cock, so hard it was flushed red at the tip and terribly sensitive, and Findekáno bit back a curse. He waited, but Maitimo didn’t come onto the bed immediately, as he always had.

He looked up, and saw Maitimo watching him, an odd flicker in his gaze. He was hard, too, but seemed not to notice, tension corded in his shoulders.

Findekáno blinked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Then...” Findekáno swallowed, all too aware he was missing something, but unable to see what it could be. “Should I be...doing something?”

Slowly, Maitimo shook his head. “I’m trying to think how to ask you for something I think I want.”

“Truly?” Findekáno sat up onto his knees, offering a hand. “Whatever it is, you may have it.”

Maitimo gave him a slight smile, but his eyes were stormy. “I know you wouldn’t deny me, Finno. I only...I don’t wish to ask for something that you won’t enjoy, and have you dislike it.”

Findekáno laughed, and leaned forward, kissing him firmly. “If it brings you pleasure, I’ll enjoy it,” he assured him, reaching up to tug on a copper-colored lock of hair. “Honestly, Maitrus. Have I ever _not_ liked something you’ve wanted to try? Often I just don’t know how to ask for such things until you put them in plain words.”

That seemed to steel Maitimo’s resolve, and he nodded, and shifted to all fours on the bed, stretching out to his full length, facedown. “I would have you take me like this,” he said, voice hardly above a whisper. “And...not gently.”

Findekáno’s cock twitched. “You thought I wouldn’t like that?” he asked, with a quaver of arousal in his voice.

He could see the tension, still cording Maitimo’s back. “I would ask you,” he said, his voice measured, “to be unkind. In your words.”

Findekáno almost protested. It seemed strange, like something he should protest against. But he could see that Maitimo was as hard as he’d ever seen him, and knew him to be in a mood most strange on the night of his brother’s wedding.

So instead of protesting, he merely drew out the flask of oil he’d carried tonight, knowing how Maitimo often acted on wedding nights. He tipped a good pool of it into one hand, warming it before drawing his fingers up, brushing over that now-familiar tight hole. Maitimo shivered at the touch, and again as Findekáno pressed a kiss to his spine. “Let me start slow and work up to it,” he murmured, his other hand coming to rest on Maitimo’s waist. “Don’t worry, Maitrus. I’ll give you what you want.”

He slicked his length--Maitimo didn’t like as much stretching as he did himself, preferred to spend more time in the act itself, he’d learned that much by now--and pressed in, as fluid a motion as he could manage when he was this hard.

Maitimo groaned, and Findekáno nearly shushed him, before remembering they didn’t need to be quiet. He licked his lips, determined to marshal his thoughts when Maitimo was so gloriously tight and hot around him. “Ah...is there, perhaps, a starting place?” he asked, when he came up blank for anything less than reverent to say about his beloved. “Just get me started, I can go from there.”

“...If you don’t want to,” Maitimo began, then yelped when Findekáno shoved in, far harder than he usually would.

“Stop telling me I don’t have to make you happy.” Findekáno shifted, getting his knees properly underneath him, feeling Maitimo writhe under his body. “I want to try it. Just tell me what sort of...vein. Theme.”

Through panting breaths, Maitimo nodded. His back arched with every hard thrust, and he clutched at the pillow, attempting to get his words out. “Tell me...nnh, that I...shouldn’t be enjoying this.”

“Got it.” Findekáno leaned down, nipping at Maitimo’s neck, in that way that always made him come unglued. He sought for the words, feeling for the place that was _Maitrus_ in his mind, the way he found to understand what his husband wanted and needed, even when he didn’t understand it himself.

It came easily tonight. Maitimo wanted to be seen. Findekáno snapped his hips forward, hearing Maitimo reduced to rough little noises, and breathed in his ear, “A proper prince shouldn’t like having a cock inside him so much, Maitrus.”

“Fuck,” Maitimo whimpered, and tightened up so much around him that Findekáno struggled not to come immediately.

Encouraged, Findekáno delved a hand beneath them, reaching up to toy with Maitimo’s nipples the way he liked. “You’re jealous,” he realized, and pinched as he did, drawing out a sob from Maitimo’s throat. “Not just of the wedding, hmm? You want everyone to know--how much--you love this--“

“Finno...”

“Or, no...is this--why you won’t wear my ring?” Even Findekáno was surprised to hear the edge in his own voice, and his fingers bit in deeply, leaving finger-shaped bruises in the skin of Maitimo’s hip. “You _don’t_ want everyone to know--that you love playing--the ewe to my ram?”

A low shudder went through Maitimo, and Findekáno knew he was right, at least in part. He grunted, grinding his hips against Maitimo’s, and whispered, “Let’s see if I can make you scream so loudly everyone will hear you beg for my cock. Proud prince Nelyafinwë, Fëanor’s heir...reduced to a bitch in heat in my bed.”

Maitimo let out a sudden cry, back arching up off the bed, spasming and tightening around Findekáno as he spilled in hot spurts against the bed. He drew back a hand, made it into a fist, and let fly a swift blow against the mattress, then the pillow, a fine cloud of dust rising from the sudden strikes. When the rush of heat faded, he slumped down, head turned to the side, and Findekáno saw tears on his cheeks. “Don’t stop,” he whispered, eyes closed. “Keep going, Finno.”

It was a strange mood, to be sure. But not, Findekáno admitted to himself, bending over Maitimo’s back, one he did not understand.

Maitimo rarely came first. This felt like a rare opportunity, and Findekáno set himself to his task, focusing on the clench of that sweet hole around him, sliding one hand down to drag through the mess pressed between Maitimo’s hips and the bed, fucking him so hard he was sliding through it each time. “Put it on.”

Maitimo reached up to obey, knowing what he wanted immediately. Clever hands found the clasp at the back of his neck, and unerringly slid off the gold ring Findekáno had had made for him after Curufinwë’s wedding, some long months earlier. It slid onto his index finger, no more than a flicker of gold in the dark room with the curtains drawn against Telperion’s flowers, and the sight sent a rush of fire through Findekáno.

“I’ve had enough of waiting,” he said, and Maitimo nodded beneath him, looking exhausted, but nowhere near sated. “I’m going up to Taniquetil in the morning, Maitrus. I’m going to petition Manwë to call our fathers back together. And then--“

The fantasy took hold, even as pleasure shuddered through him with every slick thrust into his husband’s wanting body. “Then you and I, we can set up our own household, with our own retainers and lordlings, and even your father will have to ask permission to enter.”

“Ah...” Maitimo huffed out a wet laugh against the pillow, and some of the tension in his back finally started to ease, replaced with nothing but enjoyment. “Finno, maybe...a bit _less_ about my father, when you’re inside me?”

“...Right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, you’re doing really well,” Maitimo assured him, reaching back to squeeze his hand, the gold ring warm against his skin. “Nnh, that was wonderful, now I just want you to fill me with your seed.”

A spike of tension Findekáno hadn’t even realized he was carrying fled him then. This was just a dark mood, and would pass like all other moods. “Move with me,” he said softly, and wrapped an arm around Maitimo’s waist, tugging him up from the bed.

Sated and replete as he was, Maitimo did, bracing his hands on the bed to better shove down into every thrust, his lips parted as he panted for air. “Finno...feels so good,” he slurred, drunk with pleasure. Findekáno still marveled at that; even when they switched positions, he never felt like _that_ with Maitimo’s cock inside of him. Maitimo always acted as if the act undid him completely, as if there were no greater pleasure in the blessed lands, as if there were a constant ache deep inside him that only Findekáno’s cock could ease.

Liquid heat pooled in his belly, and he felt his muscles tighten, his skin prickling with heat as each thrust drove him closer to the edge. “Talk to me,” he pleaded, wanting to fall over the precipice with that beloved voice in his ear.

Maitimo roused himself from the half-trance he was clearly in, looking back over his shoulder to meet Findekáno’s eyes. Heat smoldered there, making Findekáno gasp as it ricocheted through him. Maitimo squeezed his hand again, bit his lip against a particularly deep thrust, and panted, “Finno, _arimelda_ , please, spill inside me, I’ll--“ A shudder rippled through him, face turned as red as his hair, and his voice was low as he breathed, “I’ll be a bitch in heat for you--“

Findekáno groaned, a flood of heat wracking his body as he emptied himself, his release a tidal wave coursing through him, spilling into Maitimo’s willing body. He felt Maitimo come again, cock jerking and spilling against the bed, as Findekáno’s eyes rolled back, and he fell into darkness.

It felt like a long time later when Findekáno next opened his eyes. Maitimo was there, powerful arms wrapped around him, fingertips stroking little soothing touches against his shoulders, up into his hair, lightly enough that he doubted the touches were what awakened him.

Maitimo looked down and smiled at him, alerted to his wakefulness by the change in his breathing. “Every morning I see the light in your eyes is one the Valar have blessed for me, beloved.”

The memory of their lovemaking surged suddenly back, and Findekáno blushed, turning to hide his face in Maitimo’s chest.

“What?” Maitimo asked, amusement in his tone. “You would hide your face from me now? Do not begrudge me the sight, I love your face.”

“Very beautiful words,” Findekáno said, muffled against Maitimo’s chest. “You were less eloquent last night.”

Maitimo chuckled, as if what they had shared had not discomfited him in the slightest. “I’ll leave the eloquence to you and Káno. You should sing to me, before you go.”

“You can just get him to sing for you at home, couldn’t you?”

Maitimo’s mouth twitched in a wry smile that, whether he knew it or not, looked startlingly like their grandfather’s. “My brother is perhaps the greatest bard that will ever be born in all Arda. Yet I would hear your voice lifted in song a thousand times before I thought to ask him for so much as a couplet.” He paused, then suggested, “Bring your harp to Taniquetil. I cannot imagine anyone denying you anything, with your harp in your hand.”

Findekáno tilted his face up, and Maitimo met him with a soft kiss. “You know I was serious, don’t you?”

“Aye. It isn’t in your nature to back down from anything, the Mountains of the Valar themselves notwithstanding.”

“Why should I fear a mountain with a Vala on top?” Findekáno asked, and smiled, nestling into Maitimo’s chest. “I will have my harp with me.”

“And my heart.”

“Aye, but I only need carry one of them on my back.”

“If your harp is on your back, where will you put your bow?”

“I suppose I shall have to carry it in one hand. I had to have it re-finished in bronze, after that song about me having a silver bow made the rounds at court.”

“Mm. I told him to change your name.”

“Everyone knew it was me! It said gold ribbons in my hair!”

“He _did_ at least tone down the implications...”

“The quality of his voice does _not_ forgive the sharpness of his tongue.”

“I told you, I’d rather have your songs than his. Yours do not bite so deeply.”

Findekáno huffed, which only made Maitimo chuckle. “If this endeavor succeeds, he’ll need to write an extremely epic song about me. I’ll send you home to him, then. And I will go up the mountain--“

“--With your harp and your bow--“

“Aye, and I’ll return with harp, bow, and your father’s invitation to return from exile. And Grandfather will bless us, and this whole dark charade will be a thing of the past.”

Maitimo kissed him again, drawing it out, teasing his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Then I suppose I’d better put on a robe,” he said, and rolled out of bed. “With your determination and valor, I’ll need to be ready to be summoned to Tirion at any time.”

“Braid your hair and shine your sword,” Findekáno agreed, and stood, searching out his clothes. “And bring your ring. You’ll be wearing it home.”

“You’re _very_ confident, Finno.”

“It’s as my husband said. With my harp and my bow, who could refuse me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Come [talk to me](https://nikosheba.tumblr.com/) about Them


End file.
